


See How Sirius Kept

by hesterbyrde



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dogs, New dog, fannibal fluff, fannibalfluff, will gets a new dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:24:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9411260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesterbyrde/pseuds/hesterbyrde
Summary: Hannibal has been dogsitting for Will, when Will arrives a few days early with a new addition to his pack.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I scratched up this little ficlet for the #fannibalfluff thing. 
> 
> Just a little drabble about Will getting a new dog. There's vague hints of Hannigram, but only if you choose to read it that way. It takes place sometime in early season 1, after Will gets Winston but before things start to go horribly south. I hope that it brightens your day and makes you smile.
> 
> All the best!

I opened the door so my last look  
Should be taken outside a house and book.  
Before I gave up seeing and slept,  
I said I would see how Sirius kept  
His watchdog eye on what remained  
To be gone into, if not explained.  
~Robert Frost, from the poem "One More Brevity"

***

Hannibal found himself lingering in Will's house again, after turning up to feed the pack and let them roam for the evening. The sun had still been up when he'd arrived, painting the world a pallid gold. But it had long since taken its leave for the evening, leaving the woods of Wolf Trap in the company of a soft, gray twilight. It was a rare and beautiful night for so early in the spring, and so Hannibal had flung open the windows, left the door ajar, and let the pack wander as it pleased them. And as it pleased him, he'd seated himself at the upright piano in the corner of Will's living room. He'd already perused the bookshelves. Wound a few threads onto a fishing fly. Inspected the cupboards. So it seemed the only right thing to do, since he wasn't keen on heading back to Baltimore just yet.

He found the piano was sliding out of tune with neglect. For it was neglect, as evidenced by the thick layer of frosty dust that had accumulated on the lid and bench. Too far out of key for Debussy or Ravel… the close harmonies were fuzzy and discordant on the untempered strings. Mozart was a better choice, though he had to find something that stayed away from the dreadful E flat that was a full quarter-tone off pitch.

Hannibal refused to admit to himself that he lingered for any reason besides the dogs. That he wanted anything this vacuous space had to offer. He contented himself with a little out of tune Mozart and the soft sounds of the pack.

A white light arced slowly across the empty walls, making Hannibal sit up and turn. Outside, the dogs all barked happily to see that their true master was returning, the gravel of the driveway crunching under his tires. Hannibal stood from the piano, carefully replacing the lid, and stepped out on the porch to meet Will as he opened the car door.

Hannibal made to speak, a courtly greeting and welcome already perched on the edge of his teeth, but he bit it back when he saw Will struggling to get of the car with a large, muddy dog in his arms.

"Hey, Dr. Lecter." Will called. "Can you round up the pack and get them inside? I need to get this guy a bath."

"Yes of course." Hannibal responded before sounding a shrill whistle. It sent all the dogs scurrying for the door, even as they looked expectantly back at Will.

"Another addition to your family?" Hannibal remarked when the door was shut.

"Looks that way." Will responded, setting the filthy mutt down on the porch and lassoing him with a makeshift collar and leash that lay draped over the railing. The creature's eyes, set deep with hunger in its long face, followed Will's movements with great trepidation. "Found him in a ditch, up to his haunches in mud. No collar or tags. Found out why he was stuck when I pulled him out. He's favoring his front leg. Can't tell for the dirt if it's a joint injury or a cut or something."

Will wiped his hands on his already soiled pants and headed for the side of the house. From there he retrieved a hose and washtub which he began to fill with water. With soft words, and a little insistence, he eventually coaxed the dog into the washtub and began to slowly rinse the mud from its fur. A sleek and alert creature was revealed under the muck. A black coat with saddle markings, that clearly marked it as some sort of German Shepherd mix. It was as docile as a lamb during its bath, occasionally leaning over to lick Will's face, which was also streaked with mud.

Hannibal found himself entranced as he watched Will work his magic on the poor creature. He rinsed and scrubbed and rinsed and scrubbed until every speck of dirt was washed away. Then he disappeared inside, returning with a towel and, of all things, a blow dryer. And he proceeded to dry the animal until it was as fluffy as it probably had been in its puppy days. Then he bent to inspect the limb it had been favoring, discovering a nasty cut on one of the paw pads. 

"Better get that cleaned up and bandaged." Will murmured to the dog, giving it a scratch behind a still damp ear. "Then we'll go see Dr. Atherford in the morning to make sure it doesn't need stitches or anything."

Will returned to the house and fetched a small first aid kit and began to carefully bandage the injured paw. The dog, which had been shaking with fear and cold when it arrived, bore all of this as placidly as you please. Never once did it whimper, or snap, or shy, even when Will prodded the injured area looking for signs of infection.

Hannibal watched the whole ceremony in complete, awe struck silence. He felt as if he were, without announcement or preamble, being allowed a glimpse into something holy. A moment alone in the Pope's chambers. A sudden emergence at Uluru. A peek into the Ark of the Covenant. A moment alone with naught but the naked truth staring back at him.

And for once in his life, he didn't feel the need to touch it. To twist it. To some how make it mortal.

He was shaken to his core. He'd seen Will's insight. And he'd goaded his desire to kill, in an effort to learn his reasons. To anticipate his methods. But he had no idea what to do with this. With this passion for gentleness. This was the other side of the coin, Hannibal realized. The righteous might of justice on one side, and the tender diligence of due compassion on the other.

As Hannibal was thinking, Will stepped back around the side of the house and returned with a large kennel. He tossed a few of the faded cushions from the wicker furniture inside before returning to the dog.

"Come on. In you go. We have to give you a proper introduction." he coaxed. And after a moment of nosing around, the dog contentedly deposited itself inside and Will removed the makeshift leash and latched the door.

"You can open the front door again." Will said to Hannibal, who until now might be forgiven for thinking Will had forgotten him altogether.

Hannibal did as he was bidden. There was the scratching of paws on the wood of the porch as the pack arrived to meet their newest member. Will stopped them and gave the command to sit when they were about six feet away. They obeyed instantly, with only the barest hint of a whine from the one named Buster.

"Everyone… this is…" he pulled up short. "I haven't thought of a name yet. Do you know any good dog names, Dr. Lecter?"

Hannibal pouted his lips in thought. "What about Argos?"

"Argos?"

"The faithful hound of Odysseus. He was barely more than a pup when his master went to go fight in the Trojan War. It was more than twenty years before he returned, having been waylaid by Poseidon. When he returned at last, he came in the guise of an old man so as to see who among his countrymen might be using his absence against him. Only his dog, now little more than an old bag of bones recognized him."

Will nodded, letting the story sink in. He smiled up at Hannibal. He looked tired, but under it all was a joy de vivre Hannibal had never seen in Will's eyes before. A sort of satisfaction that never came from saved human lives, or completed cases, or slain villains. This was what happiness looked like on Will Graham. Mud. Dog fur. And a tired smile.

"Argos it is." Will said, softly. "Everybody, this is Argos. Argos… this is everybody."

***


End file.
